


Summer People

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [52]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:45:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Summer People, they were called, those outsiders who leased the two manor houses in the village for the summer months.  Some came with a romantic vision of fresh air and bucolic pleasures; some came to recover from the rigors of an illness or overindulgences; some came to hide out from their creditors for awhile.  Once there had been a small group of students with their tutor and a housekeeper, to cram for entrance exams.  This time, though, it was different; this pair, husband and wife, came to play hurtful games with the locals, targeting any they thought would be vulnerable to their wiles.  Frankly, no one is any too pleased, no one from the village, and certainly no one from Haven, and the interlopers are about to find out the 'naive simple folk' are nothing of the sort.





	Summer People

It was Magda Rhys who first brought the news, red faced, tight jawed Magda, usually the sweetest woman you'd be likely to meet, calm and even tempered. It was Magda Rhys who'd insisted her husband, Davie Rhys the station master, bring Peter up to Haven when he first arrived, so ill, barely conscious, when Davie, protective of Caeide and Haven was reluctant to bring a stranger there. It was Magda who'd always been the first to support Caeide, and later the rest of the family when the gossips would get started. And it was now Magda, hissing, nigh on to spitting, barely able to get her words together to make some sense.

"It's not like we've not had Summer People before; those two manor houses at the end of the village have seen their share of traffic now that they're owned by that grandnephew of the Callagher's. Not every summer, mind, but every other, most like. Some are pleasant enough, some just out of place, but we've always been able to cope. But these, oh, Caeide, I don't how we'll make it through the three months, I surely don't, " Magda exclaimed.

"Magda dear, what have they done to upset you so?"

"What haven't they done, is more the question!! First, it's taking old Gorus to task, that he's charging them too much and he should give them a 'rate' since they'll be the ones to recommend the hiring of the place in the future, which brings custom to him at the grocery - like three months provisioning for two people maybe every two years is something to haggle over! They're wanting him to bring things down to where they're only paying the base cost, HE'D be paying the shipping and rates and with no profit at all, so coming out losing money in the long run. You know he can't do that, he barely makes a living now, like most of us, and why should he do that for them anyway? Oh, and they don't want to have to go to the grocery themselves, want him to deliver their goods himself! Then, they wanted to place a complaint against Dora Fields, "her chickens and goats are too loud, they find them annoying, she should be made to get rid of them," as if we should change our lives around them coming to stay for the summer! They had poor Dora in tears, they did, with the lecturing they saw fit to give her! Lived in that cottage by the manor for all of her life, as did her mother before her; has always had the livestock and never a problem afore now." She paused to take a sip of her tea.

"And Caeide," her voice got low, and her face puckered as if she too was going to cry, "Caeide, she made a try for Ammon yesterday, she did."

Caeide just looked at her for a moment and shook her head, thinking she'd missed part of the conversation.

"Magda, WHO did? They brought someone with them? I thought it was just the two, the woman, her husband . . ." and then her eyes got big. "HER? But, she must be a good ten years older than I am, and young Ammon, he's what? Sixteen???"

"Aye, just turned, and him courting little Lea McGuire up Cresda way."

"What did she do? Could there have been a misunderstanding?" Caeide finding the whole thing difficult to comprehend.

"Well, that's what SHE says, when I went to have a word with her; acted like my Ammon is 'simple' for not knowing a kind word from something other and making such a bother. But Caeide, a 'kind word' doesn't include him coming home with her lipstick on his neck, and he says she . . . she 'touched' him, if you know what I mean? Fondled him, tried to get him to 'show'. He backed out of that house and ran for home. I could smell her perfume on him! Seems she'd asked him to carry some packages from the store for her, and he was willing; you know Ammon, always agreeable to helping if asked."

"And she denied it?"

"Aye, and I rather lost my temper with her, I did; told her if she's thinking to practice such ways around here, well luck to her, but she needs to keep away from those young enough to be her son, if not her grandson! AND learn to take NO for an answer!"

Caeide choked on her tea; she'd seen the visitor around town, a beautiful woman indeed, Peter's age perhaps just a bit younger, very proud of herself and her appearance, proud of her position, her money; no, she'd not take well to being taken to task like that, nor having her age rubbed in her face.

"Is Ammon alright? That must have been very upsetting for him?"

"His father talked to him, he'll be fine, but he is really not interested in being around either of them, obviously, and that's going to make it difficult for the summer, you know; he's needed here to help his father and all, and we've really no place to send him anyways. It's only a small village when you think on it, so you know they'll meet!"

"What about the man?"

"Oh, that's the good part; HE came to talk to Davie; said our son got 'out of line' with his wife, and we needed to get him under control."

Caeide had another choking fit. Ammon Rhy was one of the most timid young men she'd ever met, not able to raise his eyes to a woman's face without blushing. {"Of course, they can surprise you sometimes; heaven knows Andrew did! But I don't think young Ammon is another Andrew; I truly think our Andrew is one of a kind, where shyness and enthusiasm for life and loving fought it out and shyness lost!"}

She related all that to Maude as they were preparing tea for the guys.

Andrew came bouncing in as usual. "Hey, do you think Duggan will be in a better mood if I take him some hot mash? He's really not happy right now," rubbing the seat of his pants ruefully.

"Well, Andrew, you're separating out his ladies for their shearing; he's not going to GET in a better mood til the whole process is done and they're back in their pasture, I'm afraid. Not to say he wouldn't eat and relish the hot mash, of course, but if you think that's going to have him give you fewer bruises, well, I think you're being a bit overly optimistic," Caeide told him sympathetically.

She'd taken her own share of bruises from that ram and his sire before him over the years, had one or two new ones from earlier this morning herself when she was cutting and cornering three of the young ewes, and stood to gather a few more tomorrow when the process continued. Haven did things a bit differently than most; she had never seen the sense in separating all the ewes and keeping them confined for however long it took for the shearing to get done; if something came up unexpectedly, the poor things could be stuck for weeks! No, she had started the practice of separating out only those who could be sheared that same day, reducing the strain on everyone, well, everyone except Duggan, who just got angry each day anew. While this was the son of their original Duggan, he had a very similar mindset where the ewes were concerned! She busied herself pulling the coffee pot off the stove, checking to see if it had settled, and put it back down to let it rest for another few minutes. 

"Whatcha talking about?" he asked as he plopped himself down in a chair and reached for a scone, getting his fingers slapped by Maude.

"Since when you do come in from working with the stock and put your hands on my good food without washing them first? And the rest of you could use a good dowsing too, Andrew; if I had my eyes closed, I'd not be sure if it was you or that ram sitting at the table," she scolded him.

He gave a tiny grin and ducked his head, "Yes, m'am," and dashed upstairs to do her bidding. {"Yeah, she's right, but boy those scones looked good! They sure did look serious when I walked in, though; wonder what that's all about?"} He hurried through his shower, put on fresh clothes and rushed back down, hair still wet, coming to a halt to see Peter in his chair reaching for that same scone Andrew had had his eye on, Caeide once again checking the coffee. 

He started to whine, "hey, how come I have ta go get a shower before I can have something, but HE gets to just sit down and help himself? It's just not fair! You like him more than you like me, I can tell," his lower lip hanging out. They looked at him like he'd gone mad, til his eyes couldn't hold that kicked puppy dog look any more and the sheer mischief shone through.

"Blimy, Andrew, for a minute there thought I was back in town, with that look on your face! Don't scare me like that, mate; can't deal with two teenage boys in one day, don't 'ave the patience for it, I don't!"

"Let me guess, Ammon Rhys?"

"Spot on. 'Ow'd you guess?"

"Magda was here earlier; she's really upset. What did Ammon say about the whole thing?" all this with Andrew looking totally bewildered.

"What's wrong with Mrs. Rhys?" Andrew had a soft spot in his heart for her, after hearing how she'd been instrumental in helping Peter, and with her being so nice to all of them at Haven, even when some others hadn't thought to be. 

"Seems that rich bitch in town made a play for our young Ammon, scared the bloody 'ell outta 'im, she did, silly twit. 'Avin a beautiful older woman take a right shine to ya, lettin ya know she'd not mind a go. . . Well, there's worse things for a lad that age, if I recall," he said with a sly grin and a cock of his brow.

The clearing of more than one throat brought him back from his memories of a misspent youth to the present, looked around at the faces at the table. Andrew's was that of someone eager for all the details of his memories, every last one of them, thank you! Maude's was more an indulgent, 'well, here we go again, the braggart!' Caeide's, well, that one he couldn't read, and whenever that happened, he got just a bit nervous. One of those looks, they could mean something really good was in the planning, or something he'd prefer to avoid. Only time would tell. 

He brought himself back to the present, not him, but young Ammon Rhys, who was a different lad entirely than had been young Peter Newkirk, too soon grown; well, no choice there, childhood had been long behind him before his tenth birthday, not that he remembered much of a one to begin with. He shook his head of the cobwebs caused by thoughts there was no sense having.

He admitted, "well, that's what I thought 'e was, til I got 'im to sit down and tell me the 'ole story. Now, I'm thinking maybe running with 'is tail between 'is legs was the smart thing to do! No way 'e's up to 'er speed!"

He sat back in the chair and Caeide poured him a cup of coffee, receiving that smile of his in return. A loud clearing of the throat from Andrew made her realize she'd been standing there, holding that coffee pot, looking down at those blue-green eyes, that smile, smiling in return like a dazed fool. {"Well, like as not, I am! When will I get over doing that?"} she thought, then giving a little laugh, {"well, if I've not stopped in all THESE years, ever since I was thirteen, I doubt I ever will."} She broke the gaze, stepped back, realizing her face was hot and flushed, and dared to look at Andrew and Maude, at the shared amusement on their faces, and the totally pleased with himself look on Peter's face.

"Sometimes I swear you do that on purpose," she scolded him with a grin, feeling herself hot, tight and suddenly more than just a little damp.

"Only cause I can, Caeide-luv, only cause I can," he teased, and she slapped him on the shoulder with a laugh, and turned to set the coffee pot back on the trivet. She shivered just a bit, glancing over at him, knowing he knew exactly what he'd done, had enjoyed every bit of it, the rascal. Well, there'd be time for payback, she'd make sure of it, and one or two notions of how to go about it came to mind.

"So, this is that Mrs. Armbruster, the tall blond lady? I don't know anyone else in the village you'd be calling a 'rich bitch'," Andrew flushing just a bit at the words.

"That's the one. Right attractive bird, but she's my age if she's a day, and young Ammon, well, 'e 'adn't a clue bout what she intended til she starts . . ."

Andrew gave him that blank stare, and Peter sighed, "remember Marya, when she came to the camp and gave me such a fit? Remember . . ." and he made that motion, that slow ripple of the fingers with the equally slow twist of the wrist at the end, so suggestive Andrew felt himself twitch and shift in his chair.

Caeide looked at Peter, "she did WHAT?"

"Well, young Ammon, he said . . .".

"Never mind young Ammon for right now, thank you kindly! Marya, she did what?!" to see that grin, one fully a match for that mischievious one of Andrew's.

"Well, SHE 'ad 'er fingers in open air, at 'er side, like, just making a point, you know, though I doubt there was a man in the room who didn't FEEL those fingers, if you know what I mean," he admitted, hearing her snort and seeing that shake of her head, again, promising retribution.

{"I'll be paying for this afternoon, I will; expect I'll bloody well enjoy it, too!"} he thought to himself with a chuckle. His Caeide, she made him pay for his foolishness, and he couldn't think of a time when he hadn't enjoyed that payback immensely. Well, yes, there'd been that one time, but that wasn't payback; that was just a really bad reaction to his foolishness, his and Andrew's, and had been a different matter entirely. But generally, her getting even with him was most memorable in the best ways. 

"Problem is, if you think it a problem and I can bloody well tell you young Ammon DID think that, Mrs. A, well, 'er fingers weren't in the air, but right where 'e'd feel em the most. And right up on top of 'im, she 'ad to be; said she 'smelt funny', and left 'er lipstick all over 'is neck. Don't rightly think 'e and 'is girl 'ave gotten very far, if this was such a shock to 'im, but maybe it was just being so unexpected like, from someone like 'er and all."

Maudie had a frown on her face, and her voice came out low but earnest, "they've a right to their own learning in their own time, without that one playing games. Me and my Jamie, there'd been no other for us when we were wed, and while we had an awkward time of it, neither having much of an idea, just letting nature take its course, I'd not like to have had that spoiled by such as her." She sipped at her coffee; she'd lost her Jamie early on, sometimes had to struggle to remember what he looked like exactly after all these many years, but some things she remembered and what she remembered, she treasured. 

"Magda said she had a set to with her; basically told her to pick on someone closer to her own age if she had to play her games, rather than someone young enough to be her son, or even her grandson," Caeide said with a laugh. "I can imagine how THAT went over!"

"Wonder, 'ow does ole Mr. A feel about 'is lady wife 'anding it out like that, I wonder?" Peter mused.

"MR. Armbruster came to talk to Davie, told him he should "keep that boy under control", that Ammon had made a play for his fine lady," and Peter roared with laughter.

"Poor lad was shaking so 'ard, coulda made butter if you'd stood a cream pot on 'is 'ead! That Lea of 'is is as meek and mild a lass as you'll find, and I'd be surprised if 'e doesn't find "ER more than 'e can handle!" Peter said, with a shake of his head.

***

All was quiet for a few days, at least at Haven, til time for Market Day in the village, held every Thursday. During fair weather it was held on the Green; in foul, it moved into the totally inadequate upper room of the pub, crowded, inconvenient, only being able to be reached up those narrow steps, which made set up and tear down difficult, and left many of the older or more infirm having to have others do their shopping for them, which was awkward, most not totally comfortable with having others know exactly how much, or more likely, exactly how little they had to spend, what parings they had to do to get by at any one time; nor particularly comfortable with asking favors either, most liking to think they were not placing any burden on others.

Haven bought some from the Market, more as being a part of the community than from real need, them producing so much of what they used, and getting more from the other Clan enclaves. They made an effort to vary their purchases, not favoring one more than the other of the vendors, except where it would be obvious charity, purchasing what all knew they themselves produced. They understood pride, tried to be respectful of it. Even then, sometimes they bought what they already had, donating it to the Vincent Booth, explaining they'd already made the committment, but had a shortfall of that particular item for some reason. 

They made a generous contribution of goods to the "Vincent Booth" as well, the charity booth from which donated goods were sold, at a fair and decent price, to benefit the Elderhouse and the Orphanage, and those of Haven took their turn at working the booth as well. What was left at the Booth by the end of the day, it went to those two charity homes, so in the end, those old folk and tikes, well they got the full benefit. What Haven brought varied with the seasons, but this trip the cart was laden with good cheeses, sharp and mild, and a few pots of the fresh herbed cream cheese they all enjoyed so much, apples and pears from the orchard, jam from Maude's preserving kettle, and three trays of rich pastries made with layers of thinly rolled dough layered with crushed nuts and soaked in honey and lemon.

Andrew and Peter pulled their cart to the rear of the booth and started unloading, adding their wares to the other donated goods already in place at and under the long counter at the front, any overflow to the sides of the designated space.

"You sure about staying by yourself, Andrew-luv? Old Gerta takes to dozing more than 'elping when it's 'er turn, you know, so you might as well consider yourself working alone til I get back," Peter cautioned. It wasn't unexpected, of course; Old Gerta was pushing ninety-five or so now, still wanting to do her part, but not being up to as much as once she was; still, those little bundles of herbs in the tray on the counter, seasoning and teas and medicinals, those were from her garden, and the jars of honey from her bees; the young Reverend would have collected her and them from her tiny cottage earlier and brought them here, and she could take her doze and no one would question that, certainly not Peter or Andrew.

"It'll be fine, Peter, at least til you get back from the blacksmith; the rush won't start for another couple of hours," he got back from his younger friend, his luv, with a grin. Andrew knew how much Peter enjoyed a good natter with Elis, a former soldier as well, and one who'd accepted Peter early on. Acknowledging that, Peter pulled the crate of fruit and cheese from the bed of the cart, set it in place behind the counter and took the mare by the reins to walk her over to the blacksmiths. He could have driven, but now that he was better accepted, he found he rather enjoyed this brief time of interacting with the villagers and those from the surrounding countryside. Not that he wanted MUCH of it, mind, that made him a bit nervous, but once in awhile, it could be pleasant.

He made his nod to the ladies, favoring them with that smile he used just for this occasion, not too much as to cause comment or raise interest, just enough to be pleasing, (certainly not that one that he had given Caeide earlier!), exchanged a word or two with some of the men, patted a few tikes on their heads, gently scolded old Reverend Miles for making himself too scarce at Haven's tea table, and wrapped the reins of the cart around the post outside the blacksmith's shop. 

"Oi, Elis, 'ow goes it, me little friend?" he asked, looking up, a goodly ways up, at the very tall man in front of the anvil, and the very large, very muscled man chuckled at the jest he'd heard from Peter ever since the time they'd met and decided they could deal well enough with each other.

Elis had come back from the war early on, having lost a good portion of one leg to an errant shell from artillery on his own side. Well, he'd made himself a replacement with his own two hands, he had, from metal and wood and good strong leather, and did well enough, to his way of thinking, and everyone else's as well, managing his smithy, wedding his sweet, capable Mali and starting a family with her.

"Well enou, Peter, well enou. What brings you here? Market day, more to the 'Vincent'? Any of that good sharp cheddar this trip? Told Maudie I'd like to try that again sometime; right tasty it is; she does have the touch."

"Aye, the cheddar and a couple of others, plus apples and pears, some jam from those currant bushes and a pear conserve that's right nice. AND, between them, the ladies made some new kinda pastry, rich as all get out. That'll go fast, I'm thinking, so don't take too long going over."

"Mayhap I'll send Petey over, have Maudie set aside for me at least a bit of that good cheese," he grinned. Peter knew that would be just about all, one of the smallest rounds of the cheese, just enough for a taste for him, his wife and their two youngsters, things being tight all over, this being a slow time of year for the smithy, and him with a growing family. Well, Peter had grown up in the East End of London; he knew quite well what it meant to pinch the coin til it squealed and then some. 

"Well enough, but it ain't Maudie this morning; left Andrew over there, with Gerta along side." He noted the frown on Elis's broad face, "problem, then, Elis?"

"Don't know that you should leave Andrew on his own, not right now, not with THEM wandering about. I've told my young ones, my Mali, others too, stay close at hand." Peter looked around, spotting a barrel over to the side, hitched one hip onto it.

"The young ones? Elis, ain't your oldest like, what, twelve or so?" He'd thought they were maybe a couple of years older than Jamie and Louisa.

"Eleven and twelve, aye, but THEM, they don't seem to be particular; I'd think you want to keep your youngsters close to home this summer, keep Caeide, young Andrew there too. And have a care to yourself as well, and don't give me that look, you'd appeal to them, right enou" scoffing at the look of incomprehension crossing the Brit's face, "though I'd think you can handle anything that comes along, but with those two, well, you never know, do you."

Peter was getting that look, the dangerous one he kept hidden most of the time, and his voice was grainier somehow. "I think you need to talk to me, Elis. You've either said too much or not enough, if you know what I mean."

The blacksmith pursed his lips together, walked to the broad front doors and looked out, up and down the street, making sure they were not being overheard. 

"Those visitors, you've heard about young Ammon?" He received a nod from Peter. "Well, they've been a mite too friendly with others, as well. And for all HIM saying we're just yokels who aren't bright enou to know the difference between polite interest and anything else, well, we're not fools, Peter. Overly cautious sometimes, I'll admit," giving Peter a rueful look, a look that was returned in full measure, the two remembering Peter's reception, "but you know with you, some was concern but a lot was jealousy over Caeide, over Haven and you an outsider at that, coming home from the War when so many of our own lads didn't, scooping up the richest prize around. There was resentment there, I'll admit."

"Well, we may BE overly cautious, but better that than have another of our lasses come home pale and shaking like my Deaya, who IS just at twelve, or another of our lads, like young Ammon, or worse. They've both had hands on them that shouldn't be there, for all those precious two denying any wrongdoing. The woman, well, she says she was just helping my girl fix her braids, but that's not the tale I heard at home, I'll tell you that! It don't take trying to convince the girl to sit on your husband's knee, nor your stroking her blouse like that to fix her hair braids! My Deaya is too smart for that, and raced for home, but I'll tell you true, right sick she was when she got home! I wanted to go up there and have a few words, but Mali talked me out of it; we can't afford for me to be taken up, and you know who has the say with the authorities; it's not the likes of us, to be sure, and it's not like they'd leave it for Davie, it'd be the outside authorities and they'd have no understanding!"

He scowled, "we'd send them on their way, if we could, but complaints to Callagher's grand nephew just get brushed off; we've tried! He's never been one of us, and has no interest except in getting his hire money for those two houses he inherited when the Callagher brother and sister passed on." 

"Anyone else been bothered, that you've 'eard?" Peter asked, him HAVING an interest; he might never be considered a local, but this was his home now, and what happened here mattered to him. And then again, he was a protector at heart, as any at Haven could have told anyone who asked.

"Aye, tho those better able to say No and have it listened to, for the most part, anyway. The female, she chatted up Arlen over Celgin way, and him not being one to pass up a sure thing, he went avisiting like she suggested. Made his way out again in right good order, he did, though."

"She wasn't to his liking?" Peter asked, in some surprise, one man to another; Arlen was a grown man in his early thirties, known for taking his pleasure when and where it was offered, and not being overly particular, although having a sweet wife at home. Peter didn't figure that was any of his never mind, though.

"SHE might have been, Arlen says she was appealing enough in that flimsy thing she was wearin', but he hadn't expected the mister to be there as well, thinking to take part. That ain't to his taste, and he didn't much fancy being cossened like that, not with no hint up front of what was waiting for him, what would be expected. Still, Arlen's able to take care of himself, you'd think, and seems he did so. Thing is, Gracie over to the store has a tale to tell, as does Drummond, him about that lad of his that's, well, you know he's not so canny as some for all of being a man grown, at least in body." 

Peter nodded. Gracie was a fulsome armful, a cheerful blonde widow in her mid thirties, one he'd have chatted up in his former life, a bit flirty, but not easy, though good natured about it if someone thought otherwise, just setting them straight with a smile. Drummond's son, Maddoc, well, he was just an agreeable boy, though all of twenty-five, pleasant featured, but not one you'd send on anything but the simplest of errands.

"So Mr. A tried for Gracie? Serious, just a bit of flirting, what? And Mrs. A for Maddoc?" Silence. "Elis?"

A deep sigh, a long pause, and the blacksmith took another look up and down the road, and related the tale with more than a little distaste, and Peter swallowed heavily and swung himself off the barrel. He reached into his shirt pocket, "look, Elis, 'ere's a list of what's needed, no real rush, just before the spring planting; we're just trying to stay ahead of things, you know, spreading out the expense a bit, and we know we're 'ardly the only ones to be asking things of you."

Elis gave him a knowing look and just a bit of a relieved smile. He knew full well this was Haven's way of not just spreading out their own expense, but spreading out a bit of income to the smithy during its bleak season. The friendship with Peter and Caeide and Haven, well, it went both ways as often as not.

"Look it over, just let me know the accounting, what you'll need up-front, make it at least half, that'd work best; we'll get it to you, and we'll be good. Think I'll 'ead on back, give Andrew a 'and at the booth. I'll drop off a sampling of our goods over to your place at market close, no need to stop by the booth today. And, Elis . . . ? Thanks, mate." 

He unhitched the mare, mounted the cart this time and drove off at a fair clip. He couldn't get close, of course, since the people were starting to wander in and around the booths, but he tied the mare in the shade near one of the water troughs, and made his way as quickly as he could over to the 'Vincent'. Caeide and Maude were expecting him to spend the morning here in the village, even if not at the booth, so they'd not be worried when he didn't come back earlier.

He eased his way into the booth, Gerta dozing happily in a chair off to the side, and smiling, made his way up to the counter where Andrew was bundling a small round of cheese for a smiling old woman in a rumpled grey dress.

"Always look forward to those Haven cheeses when they come to market, I do. And I just might have to sample one of those little sweet things you were describing," she was telling Andrew. She looked up at him, a bit startled; she was one of those who still found Peter just a bit disquieting even after all these years, though his smile was winning them over now that he was out and about more, as well as the regard in which he was held by those at Haven and by the old Reverend and the young one. They were a cautious breed around here, but if this one had caused no harm over his first twelve years or so being here, well, he just might be alright, was the going opinion.

"A rare treat I think you'll find them, though they do tend to stick the teeth together a bit. 'Ere, take an apple along with, that seems to clear all the sticky afterwards, it does for me anyways," he told her, putting the things in her woven market bag while Andrew was pulling out a fresh tray of the pastries. "No, no charge for the apple, that's from us to you, we'll drop the price into the jar," reaching into his pocket to do so, winning a smile from her in return.

The jar sat on the side of the counter, and the ones who contributed to the goods and worked the booth made good use of it, giving away a bit of this or that, always dropping the coin from their own pocket into the jar. Haven always came prepared with considerable small coin to do just that. Those monies also went to the charities, and the villagers had seen enough to know Haven played fair with it, aye, and more than fair. She walked away with a pleased look on her face, and Andrew glanced up at the taller man. 

"I didn't expect you back so soon; wasn't Elis there?"

"Oh, he was there, and we had a bit of a talk. Just thought I'd come back and lend a 'and. Andrew, make up a basket, will you? The big one? We'll be dropping it by Elis's cottage on the way 'ome. A right big piece of that sharp cheddar, and a good sampling of everything else."

"He gave you the money, or will he drop it by the parish house later?" Andrew knew the way things worked, and he was glad they helped with the Elderhouse and the Orphanage, but he liked to see things were handled right and proper too, so wanted to be sure the basket he put together matched the price paid.

"No need, this one's on "aven," pulling out his clip and dropping in a few bills, no coins. He'd brought money to give Elis a bit upfront, but he'd changed his mind when he heard the story the smithy had to tell. He'd changed the plan, would pay Elis his downpayment a bit later, when he could make it the half or more he'd spoken of. So, as was his intent, he had the monies in pocket to arrange for this special 'Thank You'.

Andrew raised his brows at that; giving away a sample here and there, that was one thing, but that was a more than generous contribution; he'd have to put together a real nice basket to make that come out right. He looked up at Peter, to get a nod, "yes, a real fine basket, Andrew, as fine as you can make it. I'm thinking we owe 'im that and more."

Andrew shrugged, knowing he'd most likely get the full story later. He let Peter handle the counter while he put together one of the woven baskets they kept on hand just for when someone wanted something a bit special. They didn't have much call for it, but once in a while they did, so they kept a few tucked in the cart, mostly small but one or two considerably larger, along with the rest. 

He was busy with that when he felt someone at his elbow.

"My, that does look nice. I think I'll buy that one," the tall blond purred at him. He found himself thinking, {"Marya did that much better,"} looking into the rather calculating blue eyes.

"Sorry, m'am, this one's already spoken for, but I can put together another like it for you, if you want," he said with a vague smile. He gave her a price, and her smile dimmed.

"We're staying for the summer; I'm sure we'll be making other purchases. Surely you can give me a better price than that."

"Sorry, m'am, this is the Vincent Booth; it all goes to charity, and it's already a fair price; we don't make adjustments to that," came from behind them, and they both turned to see Peter standing there, with a rather cold look on his face, not a hint of his usual charming smile.

She got a bit of a frown on her face, but somehow felt she should step back just a bit from the tall bleak-faced man with the scars.

"I was speaking to this young man, sir," and with a haughty tilt of her head gave Peter her back, turning to Andrew with an even warmer smile than she'd given him before, putting her gloved hand softly on his upper arm, sliding it downward, leaning in closer, her perfume closing in around him.

"Very well, I'll pay your price. Perhaps you could put the basket together for me and deliver it to our manor house this afternoon? It's the green one on the outskirts of town, right down there. Say, around 2 o'clock" and her voice lowered and purred even more enticingly, "you'll get your full payment then."

And Peter wanted to slap her, right then and there, the brazen bitch!

"We don't make deliveries, m'am. You want the basket, you pay the price up front; we'll fix it, you can wait and take it with you. Elsewise, a right good day to you, then, and you need to move back outside the booth, as only workers are to be in 'ere," and he turned away. 

Andrew kept his jaw from dropping with considerable effort; it wasn't like Peter to be anything but charming to a woman, especially a pretty woman, and Andrew had to admit this one was every bit of that. Not as pretty as their Caeide. Well, Caeide wasn't pretty, as you'd define pretty, or beautiful like Marya was; she was more than either of those, somehow; she was certainly much more appealing than this overly dressed, much out of place woman.

The woman had gone stiff with anger, "don't bother, I've changed my mind," she said with her nose in the air, and she marched off. There was a titter or two from the surrounding crowd, and one outright laugh, and from the way her spine stiffened even more, she'd heard it.

Business at the Vincent Booth picked up quite a bit after that, people seeming to be in good spirits and in right good frame with the two men from Haven, even before they saw the billls in the jar, and even more so after that. As they closed up, there was little left in goods, but a nice sum in coin from purchases, and coin from the jar, along with the bills from Peter's donation, to hand over to the new Reverend to take along to the charities. They assured him they'd see both Elderhouse and the Orphanage would get their usual delivery on the morrow, along with a few extra items the ladies had put together for them. Peter would make sure the shortfall in leftover goods would be made up; he knew the oldsters and the youngsters alike relished those special treats. 

On the way back in the cart, the empty trays and baskets behind them, they stopped at the small neat cottage where the blacksmith and his family lived. Peter hopped down, took the basket Andrew handed down to him and went to knock on the door. When Elis' wife answered, he smiled that smile, and handed over the overflowing basket.

"And a good day to you, Mali. This is for you and yours; Elis knows it's expected." She looked at the basket in dismay and rapidly thought of the household purse, and just how little was in it right now, having only some vague idea of the value of a basket of this size; certainly they'd never purchased such!

"Peter, did Elis pay you already for this? I don't know that I've . . ."

He held up his hands, "it's taken care of, Mali, from all of us at 'aven. Just enjoy it, with our thanks," and turned to climb up on to the seat of the cart again, and the two men waved to the stunned woman as they drove off. She looked down at the basket brimming with things she knew full well they couldn't have afforded this week or any other, and stepped back inside, closing the door behind her. Her Elis would have some explaining to do when he got home. 

Peter said nothing on the drive home, and about halfway there, Andrew decided he'd given Peter enough thinking time. 

"You gonna tell me what all this is about?" Andrew asked, glancing over at Peter.

"When we get back 'ome and are settled down with a good drink, with the others, Andrew. This needs a drop of whiskey for the telling, and I don't 'ave the stomach for telling it twice."

But he did take the hint, and started talking about the changes they might need to make in the summer pasture, and how to figure out a way to keep that bloody ram from traipsing all over the homestead as if they didn't even own any locks or latches. Duggan was an old ram now, past depending on for breeding another season, but just as tricksey as always. He'd live out his days in peace here, with a small flock of ewes for him to fuss over, but they still needed to keep him out of trouble, if that was possible. They'd kept one of the young males of his line from the crop two years ago as a breeding sire instead of getting a proven male from the southern enclave, one of those golden ones they'd been adding into their flock in recent years. They liked the cross; it had a hardiness the goldens didn't have on their own. They knew there would never be another Duggan! Of course, the young male, the one responsible for Andrew's current bruises, had been named DugganTwo, and had been found awandering a time or two himself, so . . .

They were home, mare brushed and groomed, cart settled, baskets cleaned and put away against the next use, and now themselves settled at the kitchen table. Maudie had brought out the tea kettle and the sweets she'd set aside for this afternoon, plus some lovely big ham and cheese scones, as well as the inevitable pot of coffee for Andrew. She was rather taken aback when Peter disappeared and came back with a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of bourbon, and glasses all around, none of them being in the habit of partaking this early in the day.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I need this," pouring for himself, and then at a nod, tipping the bottle into a glass for Andrew. Maudie shook her head, indicating the bourbon instead, and he knew that was what Caeide would prefer. Didn't understand it himself, not smokey enough for his taste but everyone to their own, though he had a few good memories tied up with the bourbon, he remembered now, and that brought a smile to his face. He poured each of the women a glass. 

"Now are you going to tell us what's going on, Peter. I've never seen you act like that with a woman before, especially not such a pretty one," Andrew said, before he stilled and looked over at Caeide with some trepidation. He was relieved at the calm smile on her face.

"Aye, Peter, want to tell us about it?" she asked, thinking she knew where this was leading. So he told them, and she stopped smiling only a few sentences in.

"Deaya is, what, twelve?? And Gracie, and Maddoc?? And THAT'S what he told her he wanted of the two of them??! In addition to Ammon? Arlen obviously could take care of himself, though that had to be an unwelcome surprise if she hadn't made it known up front what to expect for him to say yea or nay, and I can think of a few ways they could have managed so he couldn't have taken care of himself."

"Elis recommended we keep the youngsters outta their sight, and you and Andrew as well," not wanting to admit Elis had mentioned Peter himself, at least, not in front of the others; that was just embarrassing. He looked over at Andrew, gave him a smile, "well, we'll just do that!".

Andrew flushed, "Peter . . ." ready to protest that he wasn't one of the kids needing protecting, only to have Maudie break in.

"Andrew, it's not just you, not just the youngsters and Caeide, but Peter as well, though he'd not like to be saying that," giving the tall Brit a stern look, getting a slightly embarrassed look in return. 

"You are all capable of taking care of yourselves under most circumstances, that's not the question; but lad, I've seen things, so has Peter, most likely Caeide also, and probably you too. All it would take would be a drop of something special in a cup of tea, the prick of a needle, there's even a place on the throat to press really hard, if they decide to stop the pretense, even a good cosh to the head, and none of you'd have any idea til you couldn't help yourselves out of trouble."

Andrew remembered the number of times in the war when he and the guys had drugged some German officer, how easy it had been, remembered that drugged cup of tea Hogan had taken such advantage of, and gulped. His eyes, when he looked at Peter, showed he was remembering all that, and Peter's eyes were solemn and understanding, and stern in their demand that he take heed.

And his eyes got bigger, and he turned to Peter, "but no one's been hurt yet, right? Are you sure?" and Peter started to reassure him, til he saw the look Maudie and Caeide were exchanging.

He waited for them to speak, and Caeide did just that. "Thing is, lads, we don't know that, not for sure, nor can we. We know about what they've tried, what they've been caught out at. That little bit about the delivery today, that was a try at Andrew, I gather?" to get a nod from Peter.

"I think so, yes," and Andrew's jaw dropped, just realizing that. He'd delivered baskets before, no matter what Peter had told the woman, and he probably would have for her too, if Peter hadn't stepped in. He swallowed deeply, thinking of what he might have walked in to. 

"Thing is, we don't know if there's anyone else who might be too embarrassed, too shy to say anything, someone who's been made to feel they CAN'T say anything. Predators like that, they have a way of making the ones they prey on think it's their own fault, you know." She didn't look at Peter, refused to, but her tight lips, the set of her jaw and Maudie, if no one else, knew she was thinking of the Big Brown Eagle and his games.

Maudie still wasn't sure how that man was still walking around and not in that shallow grave she knew had been all marked out for him; she thought probably Caeide felt Peter would be too upset if that happened, but Maudie, for one, wouldn't have mourned one bit, would've been glad to help if Caeide had asked, her having found out quite a bit more about the goings on in that camp, all to be laid at the door of that man; she'd tended both men through some of their nightmares, had listened, and knew more than either of them would ever have imagined she knew. 

Andrew was thinking, and getting more concerned, and at a questioning look from Caeide, got red and flushed.

"Andrew?" she asked gently.

He shook his head, "I've got to think about it first, before I ask; I have to make sure I'm asking the right questions," and she let him be, thinking that was a fair thing to be doing.

Peter frowned down at his glass, "thing is, Caeide, it's another two months and more before they're due to leave. That's a long time for the village and everyone else to be on guard, more opportunity for them, more time for something to go wrong and someone to get 'urt, and I can't see it getting any better, not with them being this bold."

"I agree we can't wait that long; let me think on it, Peter, alright?" and he nodded slowly.

Maudie had a tiny grin on her face and that, along with that thoughtful look on Caeide's face, well, that did not bode well for the new occupants of that green manor house, he was sure. He remembered Lady Margaret quite well. He knew that bloody interferring parson would never bloody well forget her!

Later, when they went up to bed, she sat brushing out her long red hair, thinking of the problem, thinking over various solutions. She started at the faint knock at her door, the one connecting to the sitting room/office adjoining Peter's bedroom.

"Caeide, lass, can we come through," she heard, and she smiled. He always asked, bless him, even though she couldn't remember ever having turned them away.

"Aye, lads, come along through," turning to see them standing there in the doorway. "So solemn, then? Come, sit," and they did, each finding a spot to settle on the big bed. Andrew was sitting crosslegged, {"like a shoemaker's elf, he looks,"} she though with deep affection. 

"Caeide, back in camp, that first time you came, you said it wasn't what happened between people that made it right or wrong, it was whether it was sharing or taking, it was whether there was consent or no consent. That's what this is all about too, isn't it?" And she was pleased that he'd remembered, though she know the subject had come up a time or two since then, usually in connection with Hogan, the Big Brown Eagle.

She nodded, "yes, Andrew, that's what I believe anyway, what the Clan teaches us."

He nodded firmly, "then what they are doing is wrong. I don't care if they were just wanting a kiss or something, it's still wrong, and we have to stop it. It's not right them making people feel that way. I mean, even if what they were going to do, be a part of," and here he flushed a bit, "even if it was something that they, I mean like Gracie and Ammon, and especially Maddoc, thought felt good, it would be wrong if they didn't know, didn't have the chance to say yes or no." 

He frowned even more deeply, "would Maddoc be ABLE to say yes or no, understand enough?"

Peter sighed and looked over at Caeide, "well, that's a question, Andrew. I don't know 'im well enough to know the answer to that."

And Caeide said, "there's a lad over Dunkeith, like unto Maddoc; his parents worried with them getting old, him being a late-life babe, with no one to care for him, and he'd not be able to be on his own easily, ready to fall prey to any as well. They arranged a marriage for him with a woman a goodly bit older than him, one who had no family and one with a kind heart. The joined properties gives enough for them both to live in some comfort, where apart there would be hardship aplenty. There's affection, and they've made a home together, and she'll care for him and he helps her; the parents took a chance, trying to do what was best for him, and it seemingly has worked, but it was always a worry to them, I know, whether it was what he would have chosen on his own. Still, that was arranged by those who did love him, were acting in his own interests, with him being willing and comfortable with it all, and seemingly happy enough. That's a lot different than something like this. And I agree, they can't be allowed to prey on those here, those like Maddoc, the youngsters or any others. Other than drastic measures, we may not be able to stop them completely, but we can rid ourselves of them, and we will. We just have to determine how." 

"You and the others did a fine job with Lady Margaret," Peter offered, to get an appreciative grin.

"Thank you, love, but I'm thinking she's not the answer here; those two might find her appealing; they seemingly have a lot in common." And had to laugh at the looks on their faces, remembering Lady Margaret with her long blonde hair, torn gown, too long fingernails and sharp teeth, and blood dripping from the corners of her mouth.

"But still, the basic premise, making them uncomfortable enough not to want to stay, yes, that's something to think on," with a deep chuckle. And later in the night, as she lay nestled between their warm bodies, thinking of those in town, thinking of their children, thinking of Andrew who those two had thought to entrap in their games earlier in the day, she thought of the possibilities, and there was little charity in her thoughts. When she thought of Peter, who'd already experienced such games, well . . .

She thought of them even more after the visit she received the next day from Mr and Mrs. Armbruster, who drove up in the hire carriage from town, stepping down to look around haughtily, trying not to be impressed by the size of the homestead or the main house, or how well-kept it all was. They'd taken the main path, passed through fields with pastured stock on either side, sheep, cows, fine chestnut horses; they'd seen orchards and fields of grain in the distance; all in all, this was easily the finest place they'd seen during their visit, and wondered why they hadn't heard about this place, this Haven and its mistress, before.

They stepped to the door, knocked and announced themselves to Maude, who'd answered the door. In reply to their demand, she nodded subserviently and whispered, "I'll get the Mistress for you,", seated them at the comfortable conversation corner in the big room, and hurried off to tell Caeide in great glee that those two were in the downstairs gathering room, waiting to speak to her. Caeide's astonishment was evident on her face, but soon disappearing into a genial mask. "Perhaps a pot of tea, Maudie?" and after quickly slipping into something more appropriate for receiving these high-toned visitors, something she'd never think to wear here normally, being very much city clothes of some quiet but rich elegance, fixing her hair into a gleaming red coronet around her head, jewels at her ears and throat (discreet but of obvious quality), and at the last, those fine lace gloves that hid her strong, work worn hands, moved sedately down those wide steps, every inch the Mistress of Haven, in her prime, in her glory. {"Yes, they seem full of themselves and their own self-worth. Wonder what they've come for? I'm not sorry for this chance to see them firsthand, though."}

She greeted them with a regal smile, offered tea, and lowered herself gracefully into a chair facing them. "We don't often get visitors here at Haven; we're a bit off the beaten path," she told them with a smile, her voice and demeanor as cultured as any they would meet in fashionable London circles or elsewhere. It was obvious from the glances the two gave each other that she was more than a bit of a surprise to them, as much a surprise as Haven itself. They chatted a bit, all very civilized, very courteous.

{"Shit, I hope they come to the point soon, before Peter or Andrew come bouncing in. My chances of seeing what they're up to will be gone for sure if that happens. Come along, bitch, say whatever you and your partner have come to say. Or is it him that will do the saying, smug bastard that he is!"} remembering his admonitions to Davie Rhys about young Ammon. (Well, at least she was courteous on the outside!) 

Her luck held, it was still just the three of them (well, Maudie was listening at the pass-through, though the visitors had no inkling of that!) when they finally came to the point. That they understood she was the Mistress of Haven. That they felt she must be told that there had been a bit of bother at the Vincent Booth where two of her people had been.

Obviously from the way they were speaking, they had no idea of the position held by the two men, of who they really were; to them, they were simply subordinates who had defied them, and who were going to be made to pay. She wondered where they'd gotten their information, and could imagine the sly amusement of whoever had sent them this way so in the dark about the truth of things. She could think of two or three in the village with that sense of humor, the blacksmith Elis being top on her list, either of the Reverends too for that matter.

She put an expression of gentle attention on her face, though with difficulty, and nodded and listened. {"So Andrew was unaccommodating, and thought to overcharge her. So Peter had been rude and abrupt {"well I can believe that, bless his protective heart!"}, and had slid his hand over the back of her skirt as she was leaving. {"No, not likely; put his boot firmly upside the back of her skirt, that would be more likely!"} That Andrew had whispered an offer to make her a nice basket in exchange for something best left unmentioned in the presence of a lady! {"Oh, how bold of you, my Andrew!"} she though with an internal snicker, knowing he'd done no such thing. 

She wasn't sure how to end this interview, but found Maudie had thought of the perfect way. All of a sudden a clammering of voices, the clatter of boots and shoes on the wide stairs and the children came flowing down from the playroom upstairs.

{"Oh, Maudie, bless you!"} she thought as she controlled her urge to laugh out loud. Ten year old Jamie, looking enough like Peter for no one to mistake him for anyone but his son, seven year old Karl and five year old Liam, Andrew to the very life, along with their sisters, Louisa, Kat and Morgana, twins to the boys, though all looking like her.

"Mum, can we . . ."

"Mum, Kat said she thought we might . . ."

"Mum, do you think Da and Daddy Andrew would mind if we . . ." and she held out her arms to gather them all close to her, chuckling, trying to hear each question, answer where she could, seeing the sly look in the eyes of the older two, them being well in on this prank.

The two visitors had frowns on their faces at the interruption.

"This is Mr and Mrs Armbruster, my dears. They were just leaving. Mr and Mrs. Armbruster, I don't think you've met my children, nor will you now, though you, Mrs. Armbruster, say you've met their fathers at the Vincent Booth. And I truly think you must have been mistaken about your understanding of your meeting with them, neither of my loves having much interest in, um," as she looked Mrs. Armbruster up and down carefully, "'overaged, overdressed mutton?'" all with a look of considerable amusement on her face, to see the puzzlement, followed by the shock at her intimate claiming of the two men, then the awareness of the term for the meat of an old female sheep unacceptable at even the poorest of tables, then the outrage on their faces.

"Well!!!"

"Well, indeed. May I show you to the door; you'll not be calling again," it not being a question, more a gentle but firm directive, and showed them out, closing and locking the door behind them. 

She turned and surveyed her treasure, her Ashtore, well, part of it anyway. "Avoid those two, my loves; they are not friends! Do you think you might like to try a contest? I'm thinking of prizes for those who can gather the most . . ." to hear the giggles and shouts of glee as she listed off what she had in mind, again seeing the knowledge in the blue-green eyes of Jamie and the rich brown eyes of his twin, Louisa.

Most of what she wanted the youngsters could get for her, and she'd take care of the delivering and placement, not wanting to risk them; Peter's early training had given her the skills she'd need, after all, and she could use the practice. Yes, it should work, at least move them a bit farther along toward the goal. First, though, a word with Magda and Davie Rhys, and through them, a few others.

She told Maudie she had a visit to make, left her in charge of the youngsters busy making their plans, and departed, not even delaying long enough to change. Magda and Davie, it turned out, were most willing to give her the assistance she needed, though considerably amused at her attire and her description of her visitors and what had transpired. That night as they were headed to bed, Davie turned to his wife and said, "think that's the first real smile I've seen on your face since those two arrived," all with a rather big smile of his own showing.

"Aye, well, sometimes Haven knows just how to handle things, you know?" and she gave that warm chuckle that he did so much enjoy hearing.

 

"They've left, you say?" Peter asked Elis, pure innocence in his face.

Elis looked at that face and snorted, {"aye, innocent as a newborn babe he is!"} and looked over at Andrew, sitting alongside Peter in the cart. {"Now there's another of those innocent faces. Bet if I met up with Mistress Caeide, she'd have that same look!"}

"Aye, well, seems the manor house, AND the one next door where they might have shifted to, developed some problems. Chimneys smoking to beat all, and the sweep not able to come take care of them due to his sudden attack of lumbago," knowing full well the sweep had never had lumbago a day in his life.

"And the unexpected stink coming up from supposedly the drains that the plumber couldn't come to see about til next week, him being so booked up and all." He snickered.

"And then it was the mice, and the odd rat or two, and then the bats, and the vermin catcher being called out of the village due to his sick mother, don't you know," thinking on the vermin catcher who'd buried his mother a good twenty years ago.

"But I think it might have been the adders that put paid to them."

"ADDERS??!" came from both men in unison. He noted the dropped jaws and wide eyes on the two men. {"Maybe they really didn't know about all of this??!"} and he glanced up to see the mistress of Haven standing at the entry to the blacksmiths shop, a grin of totally wicked gleeful amusement on her face, and he wondered no more; he knew who had pulled off this little miracle, and now he thought on it, finding it no surprise.

Elis continued telling his story to the two men, but now with a knowing grin on his face. "Seems they kept showing up in the strangest places, and neither of them being of a stomach to deal with them. Left screeching, her crying and raging like a storm, him cursing the whole village and everyone in it." 

"Can't think why they'd be upset at any here; not like we're the ones leaving those two houses unattended for so long at a time, just an invitation to problems that is," Caeide spoke up from behind them.

"And the grandnephew seems to have come to the same conclusion after the chewing out he's gotten from those two, and has decided to put both houses up for sale, at a greatly reduced price in order not to have to deal with any of the repairs and pest removal and such. In fact, the price is so good, I was thinking, Elis. Having the Elderhouse and the Orphanage so far outside the village on the flats, that's rather inconvenient, more difficult to protect should the reivers decide to stop here, more worrisome in bad weather and emergencies, so far away from the doctor here in the village, and both THOSE buildings on the flats are badly in need of repair, replacement would be cheaper in the long run, but where would we put those dears while we were tearing down and doing that?"

"Seems those manor houses might just be the answer. And the long anteroom that joined those two manor houses, the one that's been closed off for so long? Wouldn't that be a good space for the Market on days when the weather doesn't suit? There's easy access, those wide doors opening on each end, no stairs, that storage room behind to tuck all the tables and such when not in use."

"Perhaps the village and Haven and the Clan might come to some understanding about perhaps taking advantage of this opportunity? Perhaps with the Clan making the initial purchase of the two houses, and those of the village helping with the work that needs to be done and the continued upkeep? Of course, that's after the various odds and ends are taken care of, though not until a deal is cut, signed and sealed, of course. I have a list." 

And Enis looked at Peter and Andrew, wondering at their grins and shared laughter, not knowing she was greatly teased at Haven for her 'lists'.

"And I had a look at one of those 'adders'; seems someone was mistaken, common grass snake it was, harmless, unpleasant enough to see, of course, or to come across unexpectedly; I've no great liking for them myself. The vermin catcher can deal with those along with the rest; I would estimate there are twelve of the slithery ones in total, two larger, the rest just small ones, and he might enlist some help from some of the youngsters who are easy with them; all of ours certainly are. I'd suggest the Elderhostel be placed in the OTHER manor house, though, just in case. I could probably come up with estimates on the other creatures as well, and maybe give the sweep a hint or two. The plumber needn't be bothered, though." 

And her smile was one of such sweet serenity that Enis thought of pictures he'd seen of the Madonna, and quickly said prayers for such impious thoughts, knowing what he knew about what was going on behind that smile.

Somehow, the Madonna was NOT the picture that came to Peter's mind, or to Andrew's; actually Marya came to both their minds. In fact, Peter found himself somehow remembering that little session in the horse barn, where she'd shown him her own version of that little rippling motion of the fingers. He glanced over at her again, licked his lips and wondered how he might get her to give that a try again, and she caught his eye, and the look she gave him, well, he thought it might not be so very difficult after all.

On the way back to Haven, Peter looked out of the corner of his eye, "and would this sudden 'opportunity' have something to do with that 'contest' the younsters have been giggling about the past few days?"

"Could be, my love, could be," and Andrew matched any of the youngsters in the giggles coming from his perch on the right side of the seat, and Peter shook his head, and then let out a small laugh, then another longer, louder one, enough the mare looked back at him in disgust, which made all three of them now burst into laughter.

Caeide thought to herself, among all the many other thoughts, {"need to remember to retrieve those little bundles of dead shrimps from the vents, though, and let the houses air out; faugh! What a stench!"} and couldn't control one last little giggle.

Funny, he didn't have any trouble getting her to try that little rippling thing again, but somehow that led to her letting him find out what was going through her mind as they sat at the kitchen table with the others when this all first started, and that got him to considering just how Andrew would take to a certain idea that had come to him while thinking about his misspent youth and calling over to his room to find he took just fine to the notion, and well, somehow, it all led to them finding their dinner on plates in the oven again at well past dinner time, placed there by the amused and indulgent Maudie. And all that led to her growling at them a couple of months later, and requesting tea and salt crisps instead of a decent breakfast. And eventually, well, it led to two new additions to the family, twin boys, one looking like Peter, the other like Andrew, to the bewilderment of many. But as Andrew said, "it just goes to show,"just before he was hit by a deluge of cushions, "one thing DOES lead to another! Or two!"


End file.
